


A Warrior's Plunder (Dakota's Backstory)

by Burnt__Toast



Category: Original Work
Genre: Ancient magic, Backstory, Dark, Earth, Elemental - Freeform, Fantasy, Fire, Magic, Multi, Original work - Freeform, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Trauma, War, Water, Wind - Freeform, ancient fantasy, void
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-20
Updated: 2018-10-20
Packaged: 2019-08-05 01:07:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16357703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Burnt__Toast/pseuds/Burnt__Toast
Summary: For those who are familiar with my character, this one's for you!





	A Warrior's Plunder (Dakota's Backstory)

I saw the snow fall softly onto the grassy ground, and the somber atmosphere of February came down with it. I sat on the windowsill of our small, cozy hut, listening to the fire crackle and my mother's drunken giggles as my father told her jokes. I smiled at the sound, knowing that they'd soon be taking their nap, exactly at 15:00 everyday. I would finally be able to think peacefully. Not that I disliked their actions in any way, I just need a moment to myself sometimes.

With a look at the clock, I counted down the seconds until...

"Dakota, sweetheart! Me and your father are taking the afternoon off! Be good, munchkin!" her words were slightly slurred, and I could hear their murmurs as they shambled off to the bedroom. I sighed to myself, finally having some peace, as my cat, Olive, curled up quietly onto my lap. Her black fur shone deeply in the sky's grey tones, and her emerald eyes looked out the window, as did I. 

I looked across the street, noticing my old friend Amber's house. She went off to the war a few weeks ago, she was drafted of course. I knew Amber quite well; well enough to know she would never fight unless forced to. I miss her, nobody else really talks to me in this wretched district... everyone stays inside because of the cold, their fiery souls still able to survive the winter, but are weakened by the frigid weather. 

As the grass slowly turned into a white rug of snow, I noticed the daily mailman approaching, boredom on his solemn face as he placed a bright, yellow letter into Amber's mailbox. I watched as her mother quickly rushed out the door, an excited expression on her face. She quite literally ripped the envelope, eyes dancing over the words on the paper. I noticed the farther she got, her visage turned from overjoyed to something of shock and despair. Her eyes water, and her hand is placed over her mouth.

I looked out at her, feeling nothing. At that moment, I felt absolutely nothing. She saw me watching over her, her broken sobs coming out as clouds in the freezing wind. Amber's mother stared at me, and shook her head, returning back into the house. I did not speak to my parents about it at dinner, and I never forgot about the way she looked at me through that window. I did not mention it to her, and vice versa. That afternoon, her eyes had spoken too many words to count.


End file.
